


Silver Lining

by chennieforyourthoughts



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Werewolves, Injury, Jackson Wang's House Parties, M/M, Minor Doyoung/Taeil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-22 13:21:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21077393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chennieforyourthoughts/pseuds/chennieforyourthoughts
Summary: Yuta has always preferred being human, and he burns only once in a blue moon.





	Silver Lining

**Author's Note:**

> NCT Spookfest: Werewolves

Yuta has always preferred being human. He can eat Doyoung’s chocolate confections and admire how they melt on his tongue. He can use his two long legs to kick in soccer. He can wear his piercings, and yes, Yuta likes them. Even better, they burn only once in a blue moon—quite literally, in fact. It is the obligatory penance for having lycan blood, he knows.

It is a blue moon. Yuta wakes in a bed that does not smell like him, and his nose crinkles even before he's fully awake. It's an odd feeling, instinct telling him that he is somewhere he should not be, but his brain lagging behind. The sheets are warm, warmer than they usually are, and he stretches out and enjoys it.

His arm drags across the cotton blend, and Yuta's eyes shoot open as harsh tingles spread all the way up his shoulder to the base of his skull. He props himself up to stare at the offending arm, and is stunned at what he sees.

A long burn stretches along his forearm, angry lines of deep red. It'll scar, and although Yuta does not remember  _ why _ it happened, it is clear to him  _ what _ happened.

It's a silver burn, the color drained from the edges but the deepest parts raring. Yuta wonders what on earth could have caused such neatly spaced lines, and the longer he looks at them, the more they start to look like claw marks.

It takes him a moment to think of it, but Yuta decides to look around the room. As he's instinctively known the whole time, it is not his own, nor does he recognize it. Which makes sense, because the scent of it is unfamiliar to him. But he can smell another person, and it feels familiar to him, and Yuta reasons that they must work at the same place. Their space smells a bit like work, the side of the room towards the closet smelling of the particular brands of printer paper and ink used in Yuta’s building. It's something Yuta is used to, being able to track smells throughout his day, and those two are some of his favorites. He's always liked odd smells, he'd say—drying ink, printed pages, gasoline, hairspray—but he doesn't try to hunt them down like some others of were blood, only notices the patterns.

Yuta notices the patterns and smiles to himself. Despite the bad silver burn he still does not remember, he feels comfortable here, and he lets himself fall back onto the pillows. His burn looks like it has been cleaned and there's some sort of ointment on it already, so either he had taken care of himself in the past, or someone else had done it for him.

His head does not pound, and his mouth tastes clean to him—like mint toothpaste.

It is not his own, and this Yuta knows. He exhales and snuggles into the closest pillowcase, curious what he will find when he breathes in.

_ Eucalyptus, and a bit of cologne. Funny, he'd been expecting sandalwood. That is usually how businessmen smell to him. _

Yuta rolls over and falls back asleep. He had evidently not been in danger during the night, and sleep returns to him much quicker than it usually does. He does not have the time to wonder why.

Yuta sleeps, and he sleeps like death. This is not a bad thing. There are some days when he needs more rest after the nights, and the previous night was one of them.

It is no longer a blue moon, but when Yuta wakes again and blinks at the off-white wall, he can still feel the tingle and blur of overexerted senses. He decides that his legs are strong enough to support him, so he heaves himself up and wanders towards what he can scent above all else.

The silver rests harmlessly on the top of a dresser. The pieces are settled next to the bottle of cologne, and they don't look particularly threatening to Yuta. He steps up until he's hovering just before them, then crouches down to look at them on edge.

They're slim and delicate, meant to be worn by someone with long fingers. A few of them have designs on them, but the majority are simple bands. Yuta continues to look at them on edge, then looks at his arm.

The pattern matches.

Silver has a certain tang to it. It is more sour than sweet as a metal, and Yuta  _ loves  _ it.

He wants to reach out to touch the rings, but does not know if the sensitivity has faded from his skin yet. They're purer silver than any of the jewelry he wears, earrings included, and he knows how it would feel to touch them.

It burns, yes, but most of the time it is not strong enough to cause lasting damage to him. The effects are diluted in Yuta, and he is the first of his family (or, rather, the ones with were blood) to be able to be in prolonged contact with silver for any period of time.

Yuta pulls himself away before he gives into the temptation to touch the rings and wanders towards the door. He begins to wonder who he spent the night with, although he is still dressed (sans jeans, which are neatly folded over the back of the desk chair), but does not get very far.

He faces a mirror. He had seen it was there, but hadn't really  _ noticed  _ its presence. Looking now, truly looking, Yuta can see a few other marks on him.

A short, thin line runs down his right cheek. Yuta observes it and then, from nowhere, he remembers.

He stumbles out of the bedroom, hair ruffled yet entirely awake. There's someone in the kitchen, leaning over a mug of tea. Yuta can hear the rustle of pages, but it is not a newspaper—it is a book, perhaps a novel, and he wonders how the printing would make it smell. But those are just thoughts floating through the back of his mind, because at the front is how he remembers, he remembers, he remembers.

Sicheng looks up as Yuta's feet pad against the marble tiling. He's got good hearing for a human, Yuta notes, and Yuta is very happy that he did not forget his name entirely. And he had been right—Sicheng does work in the same building as him, albeit for different employers, and smells of eucalyptus and the tea he's been drinking. The input Yuta is receiving should be all means be overwhelming, given how he can hear the faintest motion of Sicheng's pinky over the top fibers of the book's page, but it is not. It feels familiar in a strange way, and Yuta thinks again to the slow drag of Sicheng's palm across his cheek.

That had been overwhelming, Yuta remembers. The thought of it now is overwhelming.  _ Sicheng has very nice hands. Pretty hands for pretty rings. _

"Good morning," says Sicheng, seemingly pleased that Yuta has not tried to make an escape. Not that Yuta would get very far this morning, unless he was running for his life. Full moons draw the wolves out of werefolk, but Yuta had not switched. He does have a second form, but he much prefers being human, and the full moon only pulls the wolves out of full werefolk, and not their descendants. Instead, Yuta finds himself with shaky legs and a silver sensitivity gone haywire.

Even despite the drain, Yuta finds it easy to return to his usual output towards others. "Good morning!"

Sicheng smiles at him then, and it's kind. Maybe shy, and Yuta remembers hearing that Sicheng is a quieter one.  _ But who had told him that in the first place?  _ "I hope you slept well." Then, "I'm sorry about your arm. I didn't realize my rings would burn you."

Yuta's mouth drops open. He's been burned before, most often by non-seeing humans, and been apologized to, but never for something like this. Because Yuta remembers, and although the arm burn had been an accident, the small cheek one had not been. "Thank you, but it is fine! Really. Just tingles a bit."

The human's eyes look a bit like his teacup, Yuta thinks. Wide and a touch surprised. "It doesn't hurt?"

"Only in a good way." The tingles aren't bad now, really, just a touch disconcerting whenever Yuta accidentally presses against the burn. In fact, the skin there is mostly numb, and he can tell that the ointment has already begun the healing process.

They look at each other for a moment, but there is nothing harsh in it. It is not flat, either, merely a moment where they are both observing. "Thanks for indulging me." Yuta's tone is as playful as his expression becomes, and Sicheng huffs a laugh down at his tea.

"Of course," he replies, then glances back over at Yuta. It's clear where he's looking now, and it isn't Yuta's eyes: it's the thin line of red along Yuta's cheek, and Yuta knows that he is remembering how it felt to run the silver along it the night before. A delicate ring for delicate skin.

It had not hurt then, and it does not hurt now. Yuta knows that it will not scar, either, and now he tells Sicheng such.

They talk for a time, a time longer than both were expecting when it began, and when Yuta pushes back his chair and stretches out his arms, he notices that his arm tingles distinctly less. Sicheng bites his lip, and Yuta knows that he is debating on biting back what he wants to say. "Would you like to take a ring with you?"

It's an offer with more behind it than just a gift of jewelry, and Yuta pauses. He does like the rings, but they do not have the same effect when they are not on Sicheng's hand. He's not sure he would wear one, or if it would continually burn him, and he wonders if Sicheng can tell what he's thinking.

"Or I could give you one a later time?"

Yuta grins then, his thoughts settling. "A later time," he agrees, and eventually Sicheng follows him to the door. He says thank you, and Sicheng says  _ no, thank you,  _ and the door is closing behind Yuta as he faces the whistling maples on the street.

He faces them, and he remembers all under the red of the trees rather than the not-blue of the moon.

☾ ☾ ☾

_ Yuta's unsure exactly why he agreed to attend this party—not that he dislikes parties in the least—but truthfully, he should have paid more attention when Taeyong said, “There’s a private Halloween party at Jackson’s. He’s playing a movie, it’ll just be the usuals and Ten and his crew. Wear something tight and black under these.” Thinking back on it now, maybe Yuta should have asked why he was being handed a harness and belt, or at the very least what movie it was going to be. To Yuta’s relief, however, the stranger Ten dragged along seems just as bewildered and vaguely alarmed as he is, and he wonders what fraction of that comes from the “costumes” they were forced into and what fraction of that comes from the dramatic... rendition... taking place at the front. _

_ “Did Ten invite you?” It takes Yuta a moment to realize he’s being spoken to, rather distracted by the mildly horrifying things he sees happening already, the majority of which are not occurring on screen. Honestly, he’d expected Doyoung and Taeil to not be the pair making out ten minutes into the movie in the row in front of his in the private cinema, but then again everything is rather confusing, and Yuta hopes that the poor Southern couple get to use a phone and get out of the mansion quickly, and oh, right, the stranger was talking to him. _

_ “Ah, pardon?” Yuta asked, taking a good look at his companion in the bright light of the screen. “I’m afraid I didn’t catch that.” _

_ “I was just wondering if Ten invited you?” Now that Yuta looks closer, he does recognize the speaker, but only by sight. Their workplaces are in the same building. _

_ Yuta shakes his head, and he knows that the few barrettes he had slid into his hair must be catching the light. “Taeyong. Did Ten bring you?” _

_ “Yeah! I don’t think we’ve met before.” They exchange names under the disperse glow of the movie screen, the light darkening and paling their hair and outfits in turn. “Have you seen this before?” Yuta isn’t exactly sure whether he’s talking about what’s playing on screen or what’s up with Kun at the front, but he has definitely not seen either before. _

_ “It’s my first time,” Yuta admits, and Sicheng nods enthusiastically. _

_ “Mine too. We’re both virgins, then?” _

_ He can’t help but shrug. “Apparently so,” says Yuta, at the exact same time Doyoung turns around. _

_ “Virginity is a societal construct,” he says, then turns back to Taeil. _

_ “Thanks, hyung.” Sicheng gives Yuta a look, one that’s mostly amused but also somewhat fond. It’s a strangely quiet look, and Yuta finds that he wants to see it directed towards him soon. _

_ Jackson comes around with drinks soon, but Yuta does not take whatever sparkling purple concoction is being paraded around. He is busy, actually, with Sicheng's hands on his hips and the infectious nature to the dance taking over him. "I thought you said you haven't been before!" Yuta teases, and Sicheng huffs. _

_ "Doesn't mean I don't know the dance," he says. "Everyone knows the Time Warp." _

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone who listened to me ramble about "Werewolf Yuta and his thing for silver" for far too long, and to Mod AJ for being so understanding about the tardiness of this fic!


End file.
